an ave maria of arcadelt
TRANSCRIPT
An Ave Maria of ArcadeltAuthor(s): Ralph Adams CramSource: The Knight Errant, Vol. 1, No. 3 (Oct., 1892), p. 72Published by:Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/25515892 .
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|^^9^^^|n AVE MARIA OF ARCADELT. fflfS^A^B^^ ^e Abbey *s a^ ^im anc* shadowy: a \Eajg^k ^gSM/?! fickle light flickers vaguely on the vast
Kgrim ^Kjyi stone piers that gather themselves mist
HQrjS^k wan ily out of the darkness below and vanish
wSwJSB^Mi YMa *n t^le cavernous night overhead. In the
^r3sm$S& toI Choir t^le monks are chanting their Ves
^uJ^^^SmaSi bers: slowly, solemnly. It is as though *^^^ss^^^^^s* the mouldering stones found voice, sing ing and lauding our Lady.
($*e (glaria, gratia pUna, ?ommus tecum.
The Cantor stands before an oaken lectern fashioned with craft and cunningly of grinning griffins and slim angels: the ,
flaming candles on either hand flaunt and flare restlessly,
and the monk drops his tonsured head over the breviary splendid
with scarlet, and azure and fine gold.
(genebicfa fu in mufiertfius.
Nodding beneath the carved canopies of the stalls, the monks give tongue, and sing. The sound swirls and eddies down the black aisles, and echoes far and faint up under the
bending vaults: the prisoned air throbs with the surging sound.
<?t fonttoictuz Srucfus bcntm fui, %<&?fi&&- <&men.
High on the steps of the Altar the Abbot in crimson cope bows to the ivory trucifix standing pale and sad between the six white candles. The censers
sweep and swing behind
him, and the blue smoke is tossed aloft like thin foam. Then it rises in the upper air and lies still: still as windless water.
Jiancfa (JJtaria, QJtafer ?et.
The monks are kneeling in their places,
and the flickering candle-light plays on their white skulls and
clasped gaunt hands. The incense smoke sinks down in level lines; in such wise the night mist falls in the twilight, where, in the dim valleys, the rivers have gone to sleep.
dra pro nobis peccaforifius, nunc, et in 0ora morfte nostri. $men.
The Abbot and the monks are gone, the candles are extin
fuished,
and only a blood red star remains, guarding the lost. I have fixed my hot eyes thereon, and still linger in
the incense-heavy darkness. Over and over again my lips are saying to my heart, Sancta {Maria, (Mater Dei, ora pro nobis
peccatoribus, nunc, et in hora mortis nostri. tAmen. Ralph Adams Cram.
72
* -
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